


We're All Here In Plain Sight

by annalikestotalk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Monster of the Week, derek hale is healing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-10-11 02:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20539022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalikestotalk/pseuds/annalikestotalk
Summary: Something was hunting him. He could hear its breath, snuffling and grunting, growling quietly as it searched in the darkness. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from. The sound bounced off of the walls around him. It was nowhere; it was everywhere.It was close.He tried to hold his breath, but his lungs were empty, straining and protesting inside his chest. He finally gasped in one breath, then another, and another. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t seem to take in enough air to get his breath back. The sound of his panicked breathing echoed alongside the other’s, and it seemed impossible to tell which belonged to him and which belonged to whatever was in the darkness.And then, silence. His lungs paused, seemingly frozen in his chest, and the air around him was devoid of any breathing at all. Maybe it was gone. Maybe it had lost him, maybe it had given up. Maybe he was safe.Despite the silence, he felt more than heard the single, rasping breath next to his ear.It had found him.





	1. Chapter 1

Something was hunting him. He could hear its breath, snuffling and grunting, growling quietly as it searched in the darkness. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from. The sound bounced off of the walls around him. It was nowhere; it was everywhere.

  
It was close.

  
He tried to hold his breath, but his lungs were empty, straining and protesting inside his chest. He finally gasped in one breath, then another, and another. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t seem to take in enough air to get his breath back. The sound of his panicked breathing echoed alongside the other’s, and it seemed impossible to tell which belonged to him and which belonged to whatever was in the darkness.

  
And then, silence. His lungs paused, seemingly frozen in his chest, and the air around him was devoid of any breathing at all. Maybe it was gone. Maybe it had lost him, maybe it had given up. Maybe he was safe.

  
Despite the silence, he felt more than heard the single, rasping breath next to his ear.

  
It had found him.

"Stilinski!"

Stiles wakes with a start, arms windmilling around his head. He feels the world shift underneath him, and for a second he feels weightless. And then he hits the ground.

"Ouch." He looks up from his position sprawled on the floor, noticing the giggles from the desks surrounding his and the irate face of Harris glaring at him from the front of the classroom.

"This is a place for learning, not sleeping, Stilinski. I was just beginning to think that we might make it a single week without me having to remind you of that." Stiles gets up, wincing a little, and sits back down in his chair. "Luckily for you, I'm as bored of your detentions as you are, and as it is the only time this week you've decided to prioritise naptime over my lessons, I suppose we can forget the detention this time.”

"See? I knew you had a heart!" Stiles grins. "All this time, I thought you enjoyed being cruel, but it turns out-"

"Read the next three chapters and get the practice questions done by Monday. That's just for you. Out of the goodness of my heart."

"Right." Stiles deflates, and goes back to staring at the clock and trying to make it move faster. He brushes off the feeling of goosebumps still lingering down his spine.

-

"That could have gone worse." Says Scott later as they’re exiting the classroom. "Though I suppose it could have gone better too. You really should try not to fall asleep so much in class."

"It's hardly my fault!” Complains Stiles. “Three weeks ago, we had to deal with gnomes, Scott. Actual, genuine gnomes who, as it turns out, are really vicious and really angry and pretty much just ready to kill whenever."

Scott looks a little contrite already but Stiles is far from done.

  
"Last week, we fought a griffin. A real life freaking griffin! A griffin who, and I don't know if you remember this, tried to pick me up and fly away with me and ended up clawing the shit out of my back! I still can't sleep properly because of that bastard. Why is it that we can only ever go a single week before something horrible starts crawling out of the woodwork, Scott? Why?"  
Stiles realises that he’s kind of yelling and he checks the hallway to see if anyone overheard. If they did, they’ve decided not to care, and Stiles has never been more grateful for teenage apathy. He feels bad for getting mad at Scott though. It’s not like it’s his fault, but the lives they lead are kind of a lot, and Stiles is even more tired than usual at the moment. He really needed a minute to vent.

  
Stiles feels even worse when he sees the way Scott’s looking at him. He seems kind of alarmed, like he's not sure what Stiles wants him to say. To be fair, Stiles isn't really sure what Stiles wants him to say. Maybe something along the lines of, 'yeah Stiles, like always you're totally right, let's go somewhere tropical for a month and forget about Beacon Hills and the crazy that is constantly trying to destroy it.' Although knowing their luck, they'd run into some supernatural calamity during their down time and come back even more worn out.

Although if it was somewhere tropical, they might be lucky enough to find mermaids. He still maintains that finding an actual mermaid would be cool, even if Deaton assures him that they’re less Ariel and more Jaws, what with their attraction to blood and their taste for flesh.

  
Still. Mermaids.

"Sorry man. I’m just tired, you know? I could use a damn week off.”  
“Yeah, bro, I get you. It’s fine.” Scott smiles at him, and Stiles reminds himself how lucky he is to have him.  
“On a different note, everyone's available for tonight, right? I know everyone knows about it, but I'm still worried that someone's not gonna show one week and Derek's gonna do that sad face of his."

"Everyone will be there, don't worry.” Scott assures him, then frowns a little. “Also, Derek has a sad face?"

"Of course he does, Scott. Haven't you noticed the way his eyebrows get all broody when he's upset?" Scott looks even more confused than before.

"Aren't his eyebrows always broody?"

"More broody, Scott. Like, less 'I'm gonna kill you' and more 'I'm gonna pout in a manly and totally not adorable way'." Derek's eyebrows are very emotive, even if Stiles still can't always tell what it is they're emoting.

"Okay Stiles, I’m just gonna say this now: I think you may be spending too much time with him.”

  
Stiles just shrugs. So him and Derek hang out sometimes now, so what? He’s actually a decent guy once he stops trying to maintain his dark and mysterious aesthetic. It’s hardly his fault that Scott doesn’t like the guy. Scott’s frown becomes disapproving but he lets it go.

  
“Also, I still don't see why we can't have pack meetings at my place. That house still gives me the creeps." Stiles sighs.

  
“We’ve been over this before, Scott. The pack needs a base of operations that isn’t your mom’s kitchen, and Derek spent god knows how much on renovating that place for that exact reason.” Stiles is glad. It was sad to see a house that had once been so full of life just sit as an ashy reminder of the most terrible part of Derek's life. Stiles has chosen to see his decision to fix it up as a sign that Derek is healing, and he’s happy for him, really. Derek has spent too long blaming himself for things that weren't his fault. “Besides, he’s the alpha, dude. He gets to pull rank on this.”

  
Scott huffs.

"Fine. I'm just saying, it'll take a long time for that place to stop being creepy. There's too much history there for it to just go away." Stiles snorts.

"It's been a month, Scott. Give it time. Besides, I think it's nice. Replacing all the bad memories with new, better ones."

"Yeah. We'll see." And with that, the conversation is over, and the two boys spend the rest of the day trying to survive the worst foe they've faced yet - the American education system.

-

Stiles is, as always, the last one to arrive, and Derek is, as always, waiting for him on the porch. The house behind him no longer looks looming. It’s warm and welcoming, and it makes Derek look a lot less intimidating than he had standing in front of what it had been before. Stiles takes a moment to think of the house as a metaphor for Derek's mental state, then shakes his head and remembers why creative writing isn't his forte.

He gets out of the car and heads towards the house. Derek isn't smiling, but his eyebrows are relaxed and less frowny than normal and that's usually about as close as he gets.

"Stiles.” He greets him. “Come on, we don't have all day."

"I mean, technically we do. Everyone knows not to make plans for Fridays now, so no one has anywhere to go. And considering it's only seven, there's still five hours left, which is plenty of time to-"

"Stiles." Right. The eyebrows are frowning, but there's no real tension in them. "Get inside already."

Stiles grins at him and makes his way up the porch steps and through the door, heading straight towards the living room. He throws himself down onto his usual seat on one of the incredibly comfortable couches and waits for Derek to come start the meeting.  
Derek enters and rests on the arm of his and Stiles’ couch, glancing around the room as if checking that they’re paying attention. Once he’s sure they are, he nods to himself and starts.

"Okay. Well, it’s been a fairly quiet week. There doesn’t seem to be any pressing danger to deal with. I’ve been talking to Deaton about redoing the wards around the preserve though, just to be sure. There’s, uh. There’s not much else.”

  
Derek still hasn’t relaxed into these meetings, Stiles knows, and he can see in the tense line of his shoulders how uncomfortable he is. Stiles isn’t sure what to do to make it better. There’s a brief moment of silence.

  
“My dad wants to know when we’ll be done with the bestiaries.” Pipes up Allison, turning to Stiles.

"Oh, right. That.”

  
“Stiles.” Sighs Derek. “You’ve had them for almost a month. Please tell me you’ve finished digitising them by now.”

  
“Well, almost.” Derek raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Look, I have a lot of things to worry about, alright? And it’s not like I can just scan the pages and go. You wanted a convenient database, and that means I need to input all kinds of information if you want it to be any kind of useful. It’s kind of taken a backseat to the running and fighting for our lives that we’ve been doing lately. And then there’s everything outside of school, too.”

"Fine.” Sighs Derek. “Just get it done. All that fighting for our lives will be much easier if we don’t have to spend hours just trying to figure out what it is we’re even fighting. Does anyone else have anything to add?"

  
He looks around the room, but he hadn’t been lying when he’d said it was a slow week. Normally, Stiles would have complained about the quiet and hated himself for it later, but he can still feel the griffin scratches any time he doesn't move carefully enough, so right now he'll take slow. "Okay then. That's it, I guess."

His eyebrows are doing something that suggest he expects everyone to jump up and run far, far away now that the meeting's done. It's somewhere between sad, expectant, and lonely, and something in Stiles' chest twists. He’s made the same face every time since that first official pack meeting and Stiles hates it.

"So... I call dibs on the movie." Calls Erica, and suddenly there's a flurry of movement and noise, mostly complaining, as everyone rushes to be the first to the remote. Derek's face relaxes a little as he realises that they're not all going to take the first chance they can get to leave.

Derek comes over and takes the seat next to Stiles, the same seat he's taken since the first meeting after the renovations, which also happened to be the first time Erica brought up the idea of pack movie night. In his head, Stiles refers to these seats as his and Derek's, and when Scott had sat down in Stiles’ seat last week, he had glared at him until he moved.

"How about Love Actually?" He hears Erica say, and there's a chorus of groans.

"It's not even Christmas!" Complains Scott. Isaac quietly mutters his agreement.

"Okay guys, hear me out." Says Stiles, and they all turn to him expectantly. "Star wars."

"You said that last week." Lydia replies. "And the week before."

"So?"

"So we watched it the week before that!" Stiles grins.

"I'm still not seeing your point." Lydia huffs and Derek makes a noise next to him that, if Stiles didn't know him better, he would say sounded almost like a laugh.

There's a few more minutes of gentle bickering before Boyd's quiet voice rumbles out, "I have a suggestion." It's rare for Boyd to feel the need to contribute to any conversation, let alone to offer an opinion, and less than a minute later, they're settling down to watch the film of his choosing.

Stiles takes a moment to let his eyes wander over his friends. They look so calm, so happy and safe, and Stiles is thankful to Erica. This has become something peaceful, something he looks forward to during the week, and he knows he’s not the only one. This is his pack, his family, and it’s such a wonderful feeling to be here and relax with them.

  
There's Lydia and Allison curled up on the far sofa. Scott's sitting next to them and Isaac is right by him, looking at him occasionally like he wants to move closer but doesn't know if he's allowed. On the couch next to them are Erica and Boyd, splayed out together to take up the entire thing - which is an impressive feat in itself, because god knows where Derek got these things from but they are massive.

That just leaves him and Derek on this couch, which is definitely smaller than the others, though Stiles wonders if it's small enough to excuse how close he and Derek are sitting. He can almost feel the warmth of Derek's arm next to his, and he entertains the thought that he could actually feel it if he just leant a little closer...

A shout on the screen pulls him out of his thoughts and back into the room. The movie has started and honestly, Stiles isn't sure what it's about. Ghosts, he thinks, and almost laughs because really, as if that could scare him now. After everything he's faced, a horror movie about the one thing he's pretty certain isn't real is hardly going to bother him.

Although it is well filmed. The scene that's playing is really well written too. If Stiles were a lesser man he might actually be scared by it. And hey, look, that one character is doing something stupid. Honestly, there's got to be a jumpscare here, and Stiles isn't dreading it, don't be stupid, he fought a griffin last week, okay, some stupid jumpscare-y ghost isn't going to –

"AAH!" This time the shout - not a scream, thank you very much - comes from him, cringing away from the ghost that's just jumped out on screen. Everyone pauses to look at him and laugh, and even Boyd looks like he might be smiling, but it's not Stiles' fault the movie's well made, okay? Any normal, non-supernatural person would be freaked out by this.

He's so freaked out, actually, that it takes him a moment to realise that he's clutching Derek's arm.

He freezes and glances at Derek, hoping he'll give him a chance to explain before he rips his head off, but Derek just looks at him and smirks and, okay, that's not what he was expecting. Still, he can't have Derek laughing at him, so he lets go, straightens up, and settles in to watch the rest of the movie in a brave and manly way.

Four minutes later he's literally burrowing under Derek's arm in an attempt to hide from what's on the screen, and Derek is actually laughing out loud at him, the jerk. But he lets Stiles hide under his arm for the rest of the film, and Stiles decides to forgive him just this once.

He'd forgotten how nice it could be to be scared when it wasn't for his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot begins.

It's Thursday next week before Stiles sees Derek again. Not that he usually sees Derek all that often, but it's not unusual these days for him to stop in to see Stiles at home. He still refuses to use the door, but Stiles can occasionally even convince him to stay and watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine with him. It's nice, sometimes, to just hang out with Derek without the fear that the world is ending.   
  
Today, he’s sitting at his desk wasting time on his laptop when Derek makes his way in through his window. It's not a social call. Stiles can tell immediately from the look on Derek's face, the worried set of his eyebrows. Today, something is wrong.

“So.” Stiles says when Derek just stands in front of his window without speaking. “What do you need?”

“I found something.” Replies Derek, and he doesn’t look happy about it. “Something weird. It might be nothing.”

“Yeah, or it might be the next something to try and kill us.” Stiles snorts. He wishes they could discount weird things as nothing. It would make his life a lot easier. And also probably a lot shorter. “Come on, hit me.”

“I found some animal corpses in the woods.” Stiles nods.

“Okay. Could be mountain lions?” Derek shakes his head.

“No, the teeth marks were… wrong. I can’t explain it.” Derek pauses and pulls his phone out of his pocket, messing around with it for a moment. “Here.”

Stiles reluctantly takes the phone from him, and has to fight between absolute disgust and morbid fascination. On the screen is a picture of what Stiles assumes is one of the corpses Derek found, and it’s definitely been attacked by something. That’s normal enough. What isn’t normal is the way the bite marks don’t seem to have the indents that would imply normal animal teeth. Instead, there are two long wounds, one at the top and one at the bottom, curving towards each other at the ends.

Almost as if whatever did it only has two teeth.

“Okay, that’s… definitely weird.” Something about it is ringing some kind of bell in Stiles’ head though. It seems familiar somehow. “Hold on a moment.”

He turns back to his laptop, pulling up the bestiary he’s been slowly compiling and looking through his recent entries.

Leanashe, Leokampoi, Leprechaun…

There.

“I knew it!” He exclaims, and Derek startles a little. “Sorry, but I knew I recognised it somehow. It’s a leucrota!”

Derek raises an eyebrow and waits.

“Well, I’ve been going through the bestiary and I’ve been going through the Ls-” Derek’s eyebrow takes on an unimpressed tone. ”I know, I know, but like I said, I’ve been busy. Anyway, this was only like, three entries back, and I remember thinking it was freaky while I was entering it. Basically, it’s a hyena-lion crossbreed with weird teeth. Like, _weird_ teeth.”

“Is it dangerous?” Asks Derek.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t say anything about a thirst for flesh, but then again, it doesn’t really say _anything_. There’s very little information here.”

“Okay.” Says Derek slowly. “Let’s assume that it could become a problem then. How do we kill it?”

Stiles winces.

“It… doesn’t say?” Derek looks at him incredulously. “Look, it’s hardly my fault. Go complain at the Argents, it’s their bestiary.”

Derek huffs and scrubs a hand over his face. He looks tired. Stiles feels for him.

“Okay, fine. You should probably do some research on that, then. It would be a good idea to know a little more about it.”

Stiles nods, and Derek turns to head out the window.

“Wait.” Calls Stiles, and Derek turns back to him. “You can stay, if you want. I won’t be much company, but you can sit and read, or nap, or something. You do look exhausted, dude.”

There’s a stretch where Derek just looks at him, and Stiles begins to wonder if he’s offended him, or if Derek just thinks the offer is weird. He’s about to try and laugh it off when Derek nods slightly and goes over to Stiles’ bookshelf. He shakes himself a little and turns back to his laptop. Whether that was actually as weird as it felt or not, there’s work to be done.

Hours later, Stiles raises his head from the pillow of his arms and blinks blearily around the darkened room. He’s leaning on his desk, with a blanket draped over his shoulders and he realises that he must have fallen asleep. He double checks that everything is saved and shuts his laptop down.

It’s only as he’s falling into bed does he even realise that Derek is gone.

-

It’s Friday, school is over, and Stiles is trying to organise his notes before he heads over to Derek’s. There’s honestly not much there, but he wants to be sure he knows it all. As he’s grabbing his bag, his dad pops his head into the room.

“Stiles.”

“Hey Dad. What’s up?”

“You’re headed to Derek’s, right?” Stiles glances at his backpack as he slings it over his shoulder and smiles.

“What gave me away?” The sheriff pins him with a Look. “Yeah, alright. It’s pack night, Dad. You know this.”

“I do.” Sighs the sheriff, and it may have been months since he learned about the supernatural stuff, but he still doesn’t seem happy at Stiles’ insistence on surrounding himself with it. “I just want you to be careful.”

“We’ve had this conversation, Dad.” _Boy_, had they had that conversation. “I’m safe with them. Everything is fine. I’m probably not going to die before the next time you see me.”

His dad sighs again.

“I know that, son. I just mean you should be careful. A couple of people have gone missing and I don’t want you to be next.” Stiles perks up a little.

“Missing? Any weird circumstances? Anything not quite right about it?” His dad pins him with a long-suffering look and shakes his head.

“I don’t think it’s supernatural, Stiles. People go missing sometimes. Let the actual police figure it out, yeah?”

“Yeah, Dad. Of course.” Stiles makes a mental note to look into it later and his dad gives him a look like he can hear him doing it. Stiles smiles at him brightly. “I should go then. I’m already late, and you know how Derek gets.”

“Go on then, kiddo.” The sheriff says, ruffling his hair as Stiles walks past. “Be careful.”

“Always am.” Replies Stiles, turning to send finger guns his way and almost tripping down the last few stairs. He hurries out of the door before his dad can comment and hops in his jeep.

-

Stiles is predictably late and Derek is predictably waiting for him by the door.

“Come on Stiles.” He calls as Stiles all but falls out of his jeep, barely catching himself on the door to avoid face planting in the dirt. He would swear he saw Derek smiling but when he looks up his face is set in his usual stoic look, although there’s a definite quirk to his brows. Stiles squints at him suspiciously as he enters the house, and Derek answers with a raised brow and a shrug.

Everyone is already settled in the living room in the same seats as last week and Stiles assumes they’ve each followed his suit and claimed them as their own. Derek follows him in, perching on the arm of their couch.

“Right. I found something this week.” He looks around the room and everyone stares, waiting for him to continue. Stiles gives him an encouraging thumbs up and he rolls his eyes before continuing. “I found some animal corpses with weird bite marks on them. We think it’s a leucrota.”

There’s a pause, and the blank stares don’t change.

“We don’t know what that is.” Offers Erica.

“Right. Stiles?” Derek turns to him, and Stiles jumps to explain.

“It’s a kind of lion-hyena hybrid thing? It’s only got two teeth. Or like, plates, I guess. One on its top jaw and one on the bottom. Two freaky bone plate teeth.” Stiles shivers with disgust.

“Stiles.”

“Right. Anyway, as far as I can tell it’s just an animal. But with the aforementioned freaky teeth.”

“Is it a problem?” Asks Scott, and Stiles points at him.

“That is a good question. That I don’t have an answer to.” Scott gives him a questioning look. “Well, it is definitely supernatural. And it’s in the Argent’s bestiary, which is two points in favour of it being dangerous. Or, well, three, if you count the corpses. But on the other hand, they’re only animal corpses, and as far as we know it hasn’t attacked any humans yet. Unfortunately the bestiary also doesn’t say anything about whether or not we should expect it to.”

“Wait.” Calls Allison, frowning. “What did you say it was called?”

“A leucrota. Why?”

“It sounds familiar. I don’t know why. There might be something in one of my dad’s books?”

“I did say it was in the bestiary, right?” Stiles asks, glancing around the room for support.

“No, not the bestiary. My dad has some other books on supernatural creatures.” Stiles gives her an affronted look. This is the first he’s heard of these books. Though he supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised; Chris Argent is not a man inclined to trust anyone, especially not the local wolf pack. Allison offers him an apologetic smile. “They’re all listed in the bestiary, but there might be some more information?”

Stiles nods. “It might be worth checking. I mean, there was next to nothing in the bestiary, so anything would be helpful at this point.”

“I’ll check it out tomorrow.” She promises.

“In the meantime, do we at least know how to kill it?” Asks Derek.

“Um. That’s the thing. It… doesn’t say?” Derek levels him with a glare somewhere between disbelieving and unimpressed. There’s a burst of noise from the others as everyone starts muttering in disbelief.

“You’re kidding, right?” Says Lydia. “You must have found something.” There’s a strong murmur of agreement from the rest of the pack.

“I really didn’t. I mean, as far as I can tell it’s just an animal, right? Just with weird teeth. And a mouth that stretches all the way across its face. We’re talking one ear to the next. As if the teeth thing wasn’t weird enough…”

“Stiles.” He’d like to say that’s the most exasperated he’s ever made Derek sound, but honestly, it’s not even close.

“Right. So if it’s just a normal animal, we should be able to kill it like a normal animal.”

“Should be able to?” Isaac’s unimpressed look isn’t quite as good as Derek’s, but it’s worrying how close it is. He wonders if he’s been practicing.

“Look, it’s a mythological creature that no one else believes exists. It was hard enough to find this much. If it helps, they killed it with fire in Percy Jackson.”

Now everyone looks unimpressed. Stiles has a sudden image of them all meeting without him and giving each other tips on how best to perfect the ‘Stiles is being ridiculous’ face.

“Okay, so fire kills it. We can use that.” God bless Scott.

“Fire kills it in a book. We need more than that.” Maybe skip over Isaac.

“Look, this is what I found. I’ve done my bit. Until the thing inevitably tries to eat me, of course.” Scott looks concerned.

“Hey man, you know we’re not gonna let it eat you, right?” Stiles grins.

“I know. Doesn’t mean it won’t try.”

“In that case, shouldn’t we save the panicking for when this thing actually kills someone?”

“Erica has a point.” Derek’s face doesn’t change. Does he only look constipated when he has to say that about Stiles? He’s trying to decide whether or not to be offended by that. He thinks he probably is. “This thing might not want to hurt anyone. Keep your eyes open, be on the lookout, but let’s wait until it actually becomes a problem to start treating it like one.”

A part of Stiles wants to argue because, come on, since when has anything weird not become a problem for them? Also, the thing is just plain freaky, which is setting off all kinds of alarms in Stiles’ head. What kind of non-problem only has two freaking teeth? Still, Derek’s the alpha here, and if it means prolonging the stage where nothing is actively trying to eat him, Stiles is all for it.

“So that’s everything?” He asks, and when no one else speaks up, he grins. “Okay. Dibs on the movie.”

The sudden burst of noise is almost enough to cover Stiles’ laugh as everyone starts speaking at once, and he turns his grin on Derek as he slides into the seat next to him. Stiles isn’t expecting anything but exasperation, but instead he finds a shy smile playing at the edges of Derek’s mouth. Derek turns to face him and that smile is directed at him, and Stiles feels something in him shift, a feeling almost like a sudden drop making itself known in his stomach. If you asked him what it was, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you, so instead of dwelling on it, he leans over and nudges Derek’s arm playfully.

“You know, you could pull rank. ‘Alpha chooses’, and all.” The smile settles more confidently on Derek’s face, and he raises his eyebrows, before getting up and moving over to the TV. The pack seems to accept this and settles back to wait. Stiles can’t see the screen past Derek, and he wonders what kind of movies he likes. Derek stands there for a minute, messing with the remote, then returns to sit next to Stiles, who lets out a gasp of joy as the words ‘The Force Awakens’ appear on the screen.

There’s a good natured groan from the rest of the pack, but no one actually complains, and Stiles allows himself to lean on Derek’s shoulder, just a little, as they watch it.

Stiles blinks and opens his eyes again just as the credits start, glancing around the room blearily as his brain kicks back in. It looks like he wasn’t the only one to fall prey to sleep, as Lydia, Erica, Scott and Isaac all also appear to have nodded off. Stiles starts to push himself up only to realise that he’s pretty much lying on Derek, resting snugly against his chest. He freezes halfway up and his eyes snap up to meet Derek’s. Derek’s looking at him with a carefully blank face, almost like he’s worried about Stiles’ reaction. Stiles pushes himself back quickly so they’re not touching anymore and offers a sheepish smile, ignoring the odd squeezing feeling in his chest. Derek nods, and Stiles figures they’re okay.

“I guess everyone was pretty tired, huh?” He whispers, and Derek nods. “It seems a shame to wake them up.”

“Yeah.” Derek whispers back. “After how hard I push them, I kind of feel like letting them sleep is the least I can do.”

Stiles looks at him carefully, and if he didn’t know Derek better, he might say he looks sad right now. He feels like he should say something, but he doesn’t know what, and he’s saved from having to figure it out by Allison.

“Sleepover time?” She’s clearly joking, but Stiles thinks it’s a great idea. He turns his best, Scott-inspired puppy dog eyes on Derek, who sighs.

“Really Stiles?” Stiles doesn’t waver, and he sighs again. “I guess it makes sense.”

Stiles quietly fist pumps and ignores the judgemental stares from the three other waking people in the room.

“I love you, Allison.” She laughs quietly.

“Well, you guys have fun with that. I promised my dad I’d be back by eleven.”

“Aw.” Stiles whines. “Can’t you just text him and tell him you’re staying over?”

“Come on Stiles. He doesn’t even like me attending these meetings. There’s no way he’d be okay with me staying over.” Stiles sighs and she smiles, slowly beginning to extract herself from where Lydia is lying on her without waking her up.

“I guess that’s that then.” Stiles says as she leaves, glancing at Derek and Boyd. Boyd nods, and Derek goes to stand up. “Hey, where are you going?”

“To bed? It is my house, after all.”

“Oh.” Stiles doesn’t even try to understand the disappointment rising in his chest.

“And I figured you probably didn’t want me taking up your sleeping space?” It comes out as a question, and Stiles is struck by a ridiculous urge to pull him back down and lie on top of him again. It had been very comfortable. Instead, he nods and settles back where he’s sitting.

“Right. Of course.” Derek stands and pauses, looking down at him.

“Goodnight Stiles.” Says Derek.

“Goodnight Derek.” Replies Stiles.

“Shut up and let me sleep.” Complains Erica.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things seem to be very calm right now. Let's change that, shall we?

Stiles wakes to soft rays of light falling from the crack in the curtains and a room full of snoring werewolves. It occurs to him, as he sits up and rubs his eyes, that this is the first time the whole pack has slept in the same room. It’s the most restful sleep he’s had in ages, and he wonders if the others feel that too.

He pushes himself up from the sofa, trying his hardest to be quiet. Luckily for him, the group of supernatural beings with extremely sensitive hearing seem to all be deep sleepers, and none of them even stir as he makes his way to the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway when he sees Derek sitting at the counter, sipping at a glass of orange juice and reading a book.

“I took you for more of a coffee guy, if I’m gonna be honest.”

Derek turns to raise an eyebrow at him as Stiles ambles over to the cupboards to grab a glass.

“Good morning to you too, Stiles. Sleep well?”

Stiles holds it under the tap until it’s full, then drains it in one go. He takes a deep breath and nods, refilling the glass.

“Yeah. Really well, actually. It’s nice, being around the pack.” There’s something gentle on Derek’s face, a softening around the mouth, perhaps, as he turns to glance towards the living room.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good.” He looks down at his orange juice and sighs. “I didn’t want to wake them.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow in question as he sips more slowly at his second glass of water.

“The coffee maker makes a lot of noise. I didn’t want to wake them.” He looks almost sheepish, and Stiles wonders if it would be mean to tease him.

“Aw, you big softie. Who knew you were such a sweetheart?”

What? No one’s ever called Stiles nice. And besides, that’s not Derek’s angry glare, anyway. Stiles is 99% sure that it’s his amused glare.

Maybe 85%.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go grab my emergency kit from my car. Cause, you know, I like these jeans and all, but I’ve been wearing them for almost twenty four hours, and I’d like to be wearing something else now.”

Derek nods and Stiles scuttles out of the kitchen, grabbing his keys from the table as he gently opens the front door. His oldest friend, the love of his life, his beautiful Jeep is sitting in front of the house, parked next to the handful of cars that belong to various pack members. He pats her affectionately as he opens the boot and grabs the duffle bag he keeps in there, unzipping it and rifling through to make sure he hasn’t forgotten to replace anything.

Let’s see: spare clothes, extra phone, flashlight, batteries…

He groans as he enters the house again, and Derek shoots him a look as he wanders back into the kitchen.

“No toothbrush,” he sighs, resigning himself to the taste of sleep in his mouth. “Damn.”

“Master bathroom, under the sink. Take what you need.”

Stiles’ eyebrows go up a little. The master bathroom is attached to Derek’s bedroom, and as far as he knows no one’s been in there yet but Derek. Stiles doesn’t know why he feels weird about that, but he does, and he wonders if it would be rude to say thanks, but no thanks.

“Stiles?” He jumps a little as Derek pulls him out of his thoughts and nods rapidly, retreating from the kitchen and heading up the stairs, no doubt leaving Derek shaking his head at Stiles being weird again.

The door to Derek’s room looks just like every other door in the place – a light, solid wood. If Stiles wasn’t as nosy as he was and hadn’t insisted on seeing the plans before it was built, he would have no way of knowing it was Derek’s. He rests a hand against the wood for some reason, as though he’s expecting to feel something odd. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. It’s just a door, what the hell was he expecting?

He lets out a slow exhale as he opens the door, and as the room is revealed he thinks he starts to understand why this feels so wrong.

On Derek’s bedside table is a photo frame. The photo in it is a little ragged at the edges, probably burnt, by the looks of it, and it shows a big group of people, a family if the way they’ve got their arms around each other and are grinning is any indication. On the wall there’s a framed certificate in a slightly worse state than the photo, proclaiming that James Hale had won best in his class for Mathematics. A mostly burnt logo in the bottom is just about recognisable as the local junior school’s. A shelf next to the certificate boasts a bronze trophy of a girl kicking a football. The inscription lets him know that that year’s star player was Laura Hale.

Sometimes Stiles remembers what Derek has been through and feels for a moment like he can’t breathe. Derek has so little left, and Stiles can’t even bear imagining how he must feel. He feels like an intruder here, like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to see, like he’s taking what little Derek has left and is somehow making it less by observing it.

“Stiles?” A voice calls up the stairs, and he turns to see a sleepy Scott scratching at his stomach. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” He says quickly, and closes Derek’s door behind him, ignoring Scott’s look of confusion. He’s pulled over to the bed by some invisible force and he sits on it, noting with surprise that the mattress is actually really nice.

Now that he’s over the initial shock, he’s able to take in the smaller details of Derek’s room, like the laundry lying on the floor around the laundry basket, where Derek has clearly just thrown it without caring whether or not it goes in; or the small stack of books on the bedside table that look well worn already; or how the bed is made but imperfectly enough that it still looks rumpled, as though Derek had just rolled out of it and pulled it up behind him.

He has one of the pillows in his hand and against his nose before he even realises what he’s doing, and at that point he figures it would be weirder to not smell it than it would be to smell it. He inhales deeply, letting the woodsy scent wash over him. Derek has always smelt like the forest to him, in the best way imaginable. He has a sudden moment where he pictures Derek walking in now and asking him what he’s doing, and he sets the pillow back down quickly.

It’s the small things that stand out to him the most as he makes his way to the adjoining bathroom though. This room holds pieces of Derek’s less than pleasant past, yes, but it also represents his current self, the way he still holds on to his history but doesn’t let it hold him back anymore. The way he’s slowly learning to trust and let people in again. Stiles thinks of the pack curled up downstairs, and hopes for a moment that it’s an indicator of a good future to come.

The bathroom is less personalised, but Derek’s shampoo and body wash are sitting on the shower rack, and something about that sits heavy in Stiles’ gut. He’s beginning to realise that he hadn’t really thought of Derek as actually living here. Yes, this is his house, but somehow Stiles had forgotten that this was his home too. Derek went through the same motions here as Stiles did at his own home. He read and ate and slept and showered and existed outside of the pack in a very human way.

Stiles had been supportive of the renovations, but he finds himself feeling a newfound fondness for the house. Derek deserves this, something normal, at the very least.

Stiles opens the cupboard under the sink and takes a second to be awed by the sheer amount of _stuff _in it. There’s body wash and extra shampoo and spare toothbrushes and all sorts of things piled in and Stiles is taken aback for a second. He wonders for a moment if Derek has hoarding tendencies that they’ve all somehow missed. He reaches for a toothbrush, and has a sudden moment of realisation as it occurs to him that Derek keeps this stuff for the pack. Stiles feels a fond smile make its way onto his face as he wonders at Derek’s efforts to make sure the pack is comfortable here. He must be more nervous about this than Stiles had realised, and that’s saying a lot.

He rifles through the cupboard as he brushes his teeth, finds a couple different types of shampoo and about fifteen types of pads and tampons, as if Derek had no idea what he was doing and had just bought one of each type he could see. Stiles’ chest swells and he grins around his toothbrush. Derek might not appreciate him bringing this up in front of the pack, but he is so teasing him about this later.

He spits and rinses his mouth, pausing for a moment as he considers where to put his toothbrush. There’s a cup on the sink with a solitary toothbrush in it that Stiles’ famed intuition tells him is Derek’s, but as soon as he places his own beside it, he feels weird. There’s something odd about the sight of his toothbrush just sitting there next to Derek’s, something too… intimate, that makes Stiles take it back out and leave it lying on the sink. If Derek doesn’t like it, he can move it later.

He changes into the t-shirt and basketball shorts that he keeps in his duffel bag and throws yesterday’s clothes back in with a vague mental note to remember to take them out when he gets home. He leaves Derek’s room, allowing himself once last glance, eyes drawn to the picture on the night stand, before he gently but firmly shuts the door behind him.

He drops his bag in the hallway and enters the kitchen to see Derek alone, this time with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Stiles smirks, snagging it to take a sip and scrunching up his face as he sets it back down.

“Ugh. Who the hell drinks black coffee without sugar? That tastes disgusting.” Derek has looked up from his book by now, and Stiles would categorise those eyebrows as irritatedly amused.

“Then don’t drink it. Get your own coffee and stop complaining about mine.”

“Come on, what fun would that be?” Stiles grins and yep, there’s Derek’s pursed mouth of ‘I’m Not Going To Laugh, But I Definitely Want To And So You Have Won, Oh Wonderful Stiles.’

Stiles has no plan to ever mention this name out loud.

“Where’s Scott?” He asks, glancing about as though he might be hiding behind a chair or something. “I thought he woke up?”

“And promptly went back to sleep again.” Stiles nods.

“Ah. I thought it was early for him to be up.”

Derek hums a noncommittal noise and goes back to his book. Stiles sighs and stretches his arms above his head as the restless energy he’s so used to by now begins to raise its head. He grabs his Adderall from his bag and swallows the pills dry, before grabbing his keys and checking for his phone.

“I’m going for a jog,” he tells Derek, leaning in the kitchen doorway. “Don’t reckon I’ll be long.”

“Didn’t you just put on your change of clothes? You’re sure you want to get them all sweaty right away?” Derek is frowning a little, and yeah, Stiles would probably also not be happy about it if his sense of smell was as heightened as Derek’s.

“Eh, it’ll be fine. Besides, if it comes to it I can always just wear something of yours.”

The frown deepens, although Stiles would be hard pressed to tell you what this one means. He just laughs at Derek, and makes his way out of the door.

He takes a deep breath of forest air as he looks around, wondering which trail to take. He knows the preserve well enough not to get lost no matter which path he chooses, but he doesn’t get the chance to jog here often. There are a couple of short trails, but he dismisses them for something just a little longer. He has nothing to do today, and most of the pack are still asleep. He has the time.

It’s a pleasant jog, and he’s glad he chose this trail. There’s plenty of light and open space between the trees, and the flowers blooming alongside the path have a beautiful but not overbearing scent. He feels more relaxed than he has been in a long time, and he feels an honest to god smile on his face as he goes.

And then he hears it.

It’s almost nothing, a whisper of a sound really. If Stiles hadn’t trained himself to notice even the tiniest of odd things, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed it, but as it is, it stops him in his tracks. He stands as still as possible and strains his ears, hearing nothing but the gentle swishing of branches overhead. A minute passes, then two, and he almost starts to move again when he hears it, closer this time, more audible than the last.

“_Stiileeeessss…_”

That’s definitely his name, but he’s pretty sure it’s not one of his friends saying it. Whatever it is doesn’t even sound human, as if it’s vocal chords are almost but not quite the right shape for the sounds it’s making. He whips around trying to find the source, and then gasps, covering his mouth in terror as the thing slinks out of the undergrowth towards him.

It’s big, the top of its head at his shoulder, maybe. It’s almost horse-like, though its shoulders and legs remind him more of the lions he’d seen stalking their prey in a nature documentary. If the legends are true (and Stiles has dealt with enough at this point to know that they’re probably not) then it must get that from its mother. Its cloven feet trot along the floor towards him and he wants to run but he can’t stop looking at its mouth long enough to tell his legs to move. Whatever the legends might have gotten wrong, they were right about its mouth. It opens wide, wide, wider than any mouth should be able to open, ear to ear in some mangled facsimile of a grin. It really does only have two teeth, two long, stretching plates of solid bone, one set into each jaw.

Stiles has no idea how it’s saying his name, has no idea how this thing’s fucked up vocal chords can push out the sound, but it is, it’s saying his name over and over, and for that matter, his own vocal chords don’t seem to be working. Nothing seems to be working actually, because he’s just noticed that there’s blood dripping out of its mouth, and how did he not notice that before, oh god, that’s blood, it’s been eating something and now it’s here to eat him, oh god, it’s going to eat him –

Stiles runs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears Stiles is in trouble. But I'm sure he's got a handle on the situation.

So okay, Stiles has been jogging as a hobby for a few months now. It’s good exercise, and it helps get rid of the excess energy that his Adderall can’t. Secretly, it’s also practice for running away from things that want to kill him, because it’s a strategy he’s used before and he’s found it very effective.

It’s certainly coming in use now.

He has no idea where he’s going. He stopped following the path as soon as this thing started chasing him and now he’s lost in the forest. That’s okay though, because there’s foliage and trees that will slow the thing down and Stiles is finding out that he can actually run pretty fast when given proper motivation. He’s just starting to feel like he has a good chance of surviving this when he realises something.

The leucrota is faster than he is.

It appears ahead of him and he swerves to avoid it, taking a different path through the underbrush and almost tripping as he hears an awful, croaking laughter from the bushes. It's a struggle not to stumble as he jumps over tree roots and his clothes catch on hanging branches, but he can't risk slowing down. He can see it running alongside him sometimes, catches glimpses of it in his peripheral vision. He’s not sure what it’s doing, why it hasn’t eaten him yet, what the fuck is going on-

He’s careening quickly towards a rock face now, and ahead of him Stiles spots a small opening. He thinks that maybe if he can get into it, there might be a cave on the other side, and if there isn’t then he might be able to wedge himself into it and get one of the actual fucking werewolves to come and fight this thing. It's not the greatest plan he's ever come up with, and there are so many ways it could go wrong that he doesn't even time to list them all, but the alternative is to keep running until it actually catches him and there's more chance of him surviving a claustrophobia induced panic attack than being eaten.

He picks up the pace and barely manages to slow himself down before crashing straight into it, ducking down and throwing himself forwards, pushing on until it opens up and oh thank god, it’s a cave, he won’t be stuck in some tiny crevice waiting for the rock to collapse in on itself, thank _fuck_. He grabs his phone from his pocket and says a quick prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that he has reception, and when he sees the bars flickering between one and two, he sends a quick prayer of thanks up too. Just in case.

And then curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides that before he calls the pack he should probably check his surroundings and make sure he’s safe. He turns the phone’s flashlight on and –

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god what the fuck what the _fuck_ –“

It’s definitely a cave. There are stone walls and a high roof and a draft coming from somewhere that is not the hole behind him. The air is cool, and aside from his phone, there's no light to be seen. There are also three bodies in front of him dressed in hiking gear and in varying degrees of wholeness.

They all look like something has taken a bite out of them.

Stiles gets it now, all the running and redirecting, why it didn’t just kill him in the forest. It was herding him, pushing him towards its den until he willingly crawled inside. And if this is its den, that means it must have another way of getting in.

He can’t fight it. He can’t outrun it. He can’t even out-stamina it, and god dammit, what use is the most important evolutionary trait in human history if these supernatural _bastards_ can outdo him without an effort.

He hits call. And waits. And waits.

And waits.

“Stiles? Where –“

“Derek, holy fuck, you need to come get me, it’s here, it’s here, it’s _fucking_ here –“ So he’s panicking a little.

“Stiles, whoa. Slow down. What’s going on?” Alright, so he’s panicking a lot, but in his defence Derek sounds scared too and it’s really not helping.

“The leucrota,” he gasps, desperately wishing Derek were here with him.

“What? What about it?”

“I think it just became a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short, but the next scene needs so much editing, oh my god. Bear with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lamb is in the lion's den. Now where are those wolves?

Derek Hale is not a man of many voices. This not to say that he is not a man of many emotions - an easy mistake to make, however, when one considers that he expresses most of them through his eyebrows. Stiles has, by necessity, grown very good at reading Derek, and even in the dearth of eyebrows, he recognises Derek's current tone as voice number 4: Serious and Capable Alpha. Stiles considers this to be one of his favourite Derek voices, although number 5: Reluctantly amused and number 2: Openly Mocking are also up there. 

Right now, voice number 4 is almost making him sob with relief.

"Stiles, tell me where you are." In the background Stiles hears the rustle of movement and the rumble of distant voices.

"I'm - it's a cave, I don't know where. And there's - Derek, there's bodies here, it's eating them, oh god, I don't want to be eaten, Derek, I at least deserve an open casket-"

"_Stiles._" Right. Okay. Stiles takes a deep breath and tries not to hyperventilate. "We'll find you. Can you get out?"

The thought of returning to the forest to be hunted almost makes Stiles whimper, but he dutifully pushes himselfback the way he came. It's only when he pushes against solid rock that he realises he's been sealed in. The noise that escapes him is involuntary, and terrified. 

"Stiles?" He scrambles to pull the phone back to his ear. "What's happening?"

"No exit. Fuck. No exit. Derek, it led me here and then it fucking _sealed me in. _Oh god, I'm gonna be eaten, I'm gonna be eaten, I'm gonna be _fucking _eaten -"

"Stiles! Calm down. We'll be there soon, but you need to find a place to hide.

Hide, right. Hiding is good. Stiles forces himself to crawl out further into the cave and sees what looks to be a crevice in the wall to his left. He needs a second to steel himself before he can roll the body in front of it out of the way. It's shallow in length, but it looks like it might be deep enough to cower in if he lies down and scooches back. 

There's a distant but growing tap-tap-tapping noise that takes Stiles a moment to place. He freezes when he finally recognises the sound of claws on stone and then forces himself into motion, pushing his legs into the space and crawling backwards, belly pressed to the cool stone. He starts to reach for his phone only to abandon it as the tapping noise begins to increase in noise and frequency.

His legs have just hit solid rock and his arms are maybe a foot from the entrance when he hears a familiar gurgling laugh far too close. A faint "Stiles!" emanates from his phone before one huge, cloven hoof stomps down. There's brief static, and then crunching, and then nothing. For a moment Stiles thinks that maybe it's lost him. 

And then its awful, stretching mouth comes into view. "_Sttiillllleessssssssss..._" it chokes, and Stiles can hardly breathe.

It's found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew I'd be busy these three week, but I did not realise it would be this bad. Sorry guys. At least I'm here now?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are bad, but at least they can't get worse.

Stiles should know better by now than to expect the best, but when the leucrota's claws begin to dig into the rock face and actually manage to chip away at his hiding place, he still somehow manages to be surprised. 

It's breathing in deep, loud pants, and its breath carries the smell of blood and rot to Stiles' nose, like a dead animal left in the forest to decompose. He tries to breathe shallowly but it only makes the panic in his chest rise higher. 

"Please don't eat me," he whispers, panic and hysteria forming a lump in his throat that the words barely get past.

_"Eeeaaaatttttt mmeeeee..." _repeats the leucrota, clawing away more of the rock protecting Stiles. _"Eeeeaatttttt..."_

Dignity is the last thing on Stiles' mind right now. Which is good, because the noise he makes is high and squeajy and he couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried.

The leucrota is getting closer and there's nowhere to go; his legs are already cramping from being squashed as far in as possible in the small space and there is literally _nowhere to go._ He's beginning to think the pack may be rewarded with only his corpse when they finally find him when there's a familiar whistling noise followed by a furious, choking roar.

The leucrota turns and Stiles sees a flash of silver and red as it drags itself away from him. It roars again, and there's an answering growl as the roar cuts off into a wet gurgle.

And then silence.

"Stiles?" Derek's voice is a balm to his shredded nerves, and Stiles hurriedly drags himself out into the cave proper. He looks the pack over, takes in the body of the leucrota on the floor, arrow in it's leg and bleeding from the throat, and raises an eyebrow at the bloody knife Derek is wielding and its clean counterparts in Scott and Erica's hands. He almost collapses in relief, and it's only Derek's sudden presence at his side and the hand with which he grabs Stiles' bicep that actually keep him on his feet.

"Are you alright?" Stiles almost laughs.

"Yeah, just great. I've only spent the last however long waiting for a mouth with legs to eat me or some rocks to collapse on me. I'm doing swell." He sways a little, shaky in the aftermath of adrenaline, and brings a hand up to Derek's wrist, leaning into the hand on his arm to steady himself. He silently reminds himself to be thankful that he didn't actually get hurt this time. "What's with the sharp and pointies?"

"Steel." Allison's bow is held loosely at her side and her hair is beginning to escape from it's bun. "Forged in fire. Guess Percy Jackson wasn't entirely wrong?"

"Allison, have I ever told you that I love you?" He grins, and Scott leans over to nudge him in the side.

"Hey man, come on."

They all laugh, and it would be a lovely moment if Erica's face didn't suddenly twist as she screamed Stiles' name. He'd ask her what's wrong, but as he feels the plates bite into the meat of his upper arm, he thinks he has a pretty good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been months, and it will probably be a while before this updates again. I'm not abandoning it, but I'm having serious creative block atm, and I'm struggling with the last few chapters of this. Sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> My first multi chapter fic! I have five chapters written and just need to do one more to finish it off. I expect this to be around ten thousand words when all is said and done. Please leave comments, I'm desperate for validation.


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